


Birdcatcher

by Grethers



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Dirty Talk, F/M, Graphic Description, Lies, Loss of Virginity, Possessive Behavior, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grethers/pseuds/Grethers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei needs to annul the marriage between Joffrey and Sansa. Littlefinger convinces the small council of his own selfish plan. Will he succeed?<br/>Will Sansa fall for the trap? And is the only one who Lord Baelish has feelings for really himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heavy Doors

"Not an option. The northerners will turn against us even faster than now.“ Littlefinger stepped nervously through the room. He felt cold for the first time in years. Anger appeared on Cersei’s face, her mouth formed a line and her eyes narrowed. “Would it be an option to marry the daughter of a traitor?” hissed Cersei. The air smelled like the oncoming weather, wet and cold.

Then Varys raised his high voice. “A violent storm is coming. I can smell it. The northeners will come, yes. So does winter. However, Ned's oldest son will have problems with attacking the royal family if his beloved sister is part of it." the eunuch smiled widely.

 

Varys had understood. Lord Bealish knew that he'd support him. Varys knew that a friendship with him is more precious than all the gold of Castamaer. Littlefinger refilled his gold plated glass with wine. He hated to do this himself, but Cersei had banned all the servants due to her intense fear of spies. He coughed after he took a sip of the wine.

“Make the northeners see her disgrace. Distract them, Your Grace.” he suggested. “Make her sing a terrible song. Let everybody watch.” said Petyr in an icy voice. However, he smiled widely, slowly turning the glass in his hands.

“What are you thinking of?” Cercei demanded, “This girl is trained like a dog. She wouldn't even flinch if I would hit her.“

He still turned the glass in his hands, looking at the reflections of the quivering light, feeling his curves and edges with his fingertips. “That's a good thing. She's like a puppet. We just have to play her.” Lord Baelish raised his eyebrows. “Free the little bird, and watch her forget all the tricks she learned. Give Lady Sansa freedom, and she'll forget the danger which is still hiding behind her back.” He replaced the glass on the table and focused the blonde Queen with his grey eyes.

"Send someone she trusts with her, someone who pretends to be on her side, but is secretly leading her. In the wrong direction.” he explained.   
The Queen wasn't smiling, but Petyr knew that she was more than pleased with his plan by the way her eyes sparkeld. It got colder in the room and goosebumps appeared on Cersei's skin which wasn't covered with green silk.

Varys had doubts. ”I don't think that Sansa is so dull to trust anybody these days.” Cersei and the Eunuch were thinking that he's doing everything just for his own benefits, therefore the question from Varys. They weren't wrong, he was doing it for his own benefits. But they had no choice. He knew his plan was the best, and the only one they had.

“Our sweet little Sansa believes in fairy tales, lets give her one.” Petyr purred."And trusting and following orders, isn't the same thing, My Lord."   
He smiled and knew, he had the permission to do whatever has to be done. That evening, when he felt asleep, the smirk was still resting on his lips. 

-

Many people were there. She felt that even through the heavy doors. There wasn't loud laughter like there used to be in Winterfell, but she heard the heated discussions clearly, many thrilled voices. The smell of bread found his way through the heavy wood.

 Of course they're not laughing, stupid, she thought to herself. Sansa stayed in front of the door, enjoying the last seconds of her beloved loneliness.

 There's war, nobody has any reason to laugh.

She didn't want to open the door. She didn't want to sit at a table with all these liars, murderers and traitors. She didn't want to smile, to pretend that she's enjoying her food, when secretly wants to throw up every bite.When she slowly pushed the door open, barely anyone noticed her.

The men and the Queen, who were sitting at the table, were too involved in their fight of words. Only a few eyes caught her standing there, but didn't seemed to be interested in her at all.

Except him.The master of coins didn't move his eyes from Sansa. He stared at her like she hadn't noticed it. It seemed like Petyr Baelish would deduct her with his silver-blue eyes. He folded his hands in his lap. For a second there was a tender smile on Lord Baelish’s face. More and more blood was flooding into her cheeks when she was slowly walking to her seat next to the Queen.

The meal consisted of roasted venison, giant salmon, cooked carrots, and countless other sorts of vegetables. Sansa couldn't even swallow. She thought of all the people outside the great wall that surrounded the castle. She thought of all the suffering, hunger, and the pain out there. She thought of her sister, her brothers and her parents.

She was sitting there, pretending when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Before she could stand and identify the owner of the hand, she heard the tender voice of Lord Baelish.

“Lady Sansa, may I have the honor?” He removed his hand from her shoulder. She knew that she was supposed to stand up and follow him. Sansa gave the Queen an unsettled look. She needed the Queen’s permission to go with him. She knew that she was a prisoner, a hostage of the Queen.

Cersei’s green eyes linked with Sansa’s. She started to smile with her flawless lips and gave her a nod. There it was, the permission to leave.

The left the hall through the heavy door, making their way through the corridors. The candels on the walls spend them light, but they flickered as a cold gasp of air crepped the corridors. The wind outside was screaming loudly, sounding like a crying child. Sansa got gossebumps. She tried to make eyecontact with Lord Bealish, but he just walked beside her, his steps silent and fast on the dark stone floor, which reflected the light hazy.

Finally, he slowed down. Sansa still had no clue what the reason was for her sudden departure with Lord Baelish, but she supposed it wasn't a good one. The entire situation was very unpeasant. She wished it would end as soon as possible, so tht she could crawl back into her bed, waiting for better times.

The nescience had slowly increased Sansa's nervousness. She felt knots in her stomach growing with each step. She knew Littlefinger, she knew about the feelings he’d felt for her mother a long time ago.

Suddenly she was hopeful again, believing in a happy ending. This little spark of hope vanished when she thought about her situation. He, too, belonged to the Queen, as did Varys and Joffrey. The queen would never let her escape.

They finally had reached his cambers, heading into his solar. The door murmured when they stepped through it. In his room, she noticed the sweet smell of spiced wine and flowers. Finally the silence between them was broken.

 

"Why have you brought me here, Lord Baelish?" Sansa asked as she slowly walked in the direction of the desk covered with paper and letters. She sat down on the with black leather covered chair in front of the desk and crossed her legs. The way he looked at her made her shiver. For a few moments she thought she had seen desire in his eyes, but she had to be wrong. The imprisonment, always being watched by Cersei and her hate for Joffrey already made her see things which weren't there.

"You know how risky the situation here is?" sighed Petyr. He smiled and continued. "Besides that, I suppose you know that you are the Queen's hostage. One of the most important hostages in this big, sick game.The Queen is sending you to Dorne, so that she won't lose her most important leverage." Sansa froze. She was so confident about the fact, that she was going to be released. She swallowed hard and started to play with a strand of copper hair.

"And how did I come to have the honor of having this message delivered by the Master of Coin, My Lord?" He motioned for her to stand, and did the same thing himself, heading to Sansa's side of the desk. He stopped when he was standing  only a few steps away from her.

Lord Baelish took her pale face in both of his hands and pushed her softly to the edge of his desk, forced her to make eye contact, which she was trying to avoid so badly. The beguiling smell of spiced wine hit her even more intensely than before and she realized that Baelish was the source of it, not his room. Sansa liked the smell, wanted to never stop inhaling it. Grey eyes made contact with blue.

"I'll accompany you." his voice was gentle and made Sansa's heart jump a little. She was feeling a strange, unfamiliar feeling, deep in her stomach.  Sansa’s facade broke into pieces. She was so utterly done with everything. The War, her monster of a husband, the isolation she was living in and her father. Most of all her father. Tears streamed down her blushing cheeks.

Petyr looked like he would have expected that. Her silent crying grew to a crying fit. When he wrapped his arms around her waist, Sansa forgot, only for a few seconds, that the man in front of her was as much of a stranger to her as anyone else in the castle and let his strong arms caress her.

Her lungs seemed to fail and she tried to force her breath down to them, gasping for air. She wrapped her arms even tighter around him and hoped that she wouldn't bruise him, buried her face in the curve of his neck.  She left the hug after a short eternity and wiped the last few tears off her face.

He was watching her with neither pity nor amusement. Sansa was surprised at how pleasantly the man in front of her handled her moment of weakness. He seemed to understand, to know.

At least he was asking no questions, which Sansa knew was very unusual for Littlefinger. There was no man in all the seven kingdoms that liked hearing the sound of his own voice more than Petyr Baelish.

"Our ships set sails tomorrow morning, sweetling. Try to get some sleep." He smiled weakly and kissed her forehead. "Dream well, Sansa Stark."

 

 


	2. Queen of horizon

The next day, she was standing on deck of the _Queen of the Horizon_ before sunrise. She watched how the white fluffy clouds slowly moved in front of the sun and immediately changed color from the clean white to dark red. _Blood red,_ was Sansa's first thought, or the deep red of wine. King’s Landing was waking up from its deep sleep. People began to build their booths in the market, the first diligent fishermen left the port with their small boats.

Shutters were opened up and some infants started to cry. She was in the middle of it all. She felt the heartbeat of the city clearly, for the first time since she arrived there. The ship she was standing on was for its size rather lonesome. Some of the tiny fishing boats around the Queen seemed like they had more people on them than the enormous ship, Sansa was standing on. The young girl inhaled the cold morning air, which pureness let her brain finally awake fully.

She turned her head from the stunning sunrise to the narrow door, which directly led into the belly of the ship. Its inside consisted of many corridors and rooms, which were covered with deep red carpets, they really looked like the veins and muscles of some big scary animal.

_I hope it won't swallow and digest me_ , she thought internally. The Queen of the Horizon belonged to Lord Baelish; that was as obvious as the fact that Arya was her father's daughter. The wide leather furniture present in every room and the heavy curtains in front of every window made the rooms appear dark, even when the sun shined with all its power. There was that sweet smell of spiced wine everywhere. Again. Time to time Sansa asked herself why she had never seen Lord Baelish being drunk. Literally everything that this man touched seemed to be taken over with this sweetish smell.

Beside the servants, there were a bunch of wine dealers. Even they worked for Lord Baelish. That's why he smells like wine all the time, his entire existence is constructed of wine and whores, Sansa realized, but she couldn't blame him. It's weird that there was still use for wine. People were starving, fighting to stay alive, and at the same time other people still had the time and money to drink expensive wine.

After she turned away from the horizon, she realized that it was not the deck of the ship that smelled like Littlefinger so intensely. No, Petyr himself stood a few steps behind her. After Sansa noticed him, he stepped closer. He leaned his slender body against the railing next to her, smiling tiredly. "I always liked sunrises better than sunsets, they're the beginning of everything. They are the ending too. The ending of darkness. It's fascinating." Sansa remembered the usual greyness of the sky in Winterfell and hesitated.

"What does this all mean, My Lord?" Her hair was messed up by the wind and she had to pull the strands out of her face every few seconds.

"Call me Petyr. You may leave the formalities in Kings Landing, Sansa." Sansa noticed how he avoided her question. He knows more than me, so much more. She tried to act charming, just like him. She smiled, tried to look him as deep in the eyes as possible, put pressure on him. "What does all of this mean, Petyr?"

"I already told you the most important things, let the rest be my burden." He avoided her question again and Sansa knew that there was no sense in asking him another time.

"Do you want to dance?" Sansa felt irritated. _What's the matter with you, Lord Baelish? What are you hiding from me?_ Was she in any position to reject the offer? She was on his ship, with his servants, and wouldn't get much other company for the next time. Besides that, she wanted to feel his touch again.

It seemed strange to dance on a ship without music and without any real reason to dance. Sansa knew that Lord Baelish wouldn't ever breach her personal space without her permission. She gave him a nod and Petyr Baelish wrapped his hands around her waist, just like the night before. He came closer, and for a moment she thought that their lips would collide. Then, he started to whisper, and his steps got faster.

"We are being watched, sweet Sansa. You are not safe, not as long as we are in King’s Landing. Maybe even not after that. Even on this ship, Varys and the Queen have their eyes everywhere." They were still dancing in circles, and the wood creaked underneath their feet. As soon as the ship began to slide out of the port, she realized what this change meant for her.

_I could escape, maybe._ The Queen is so far away. Because of this insight, she began to wonder if the events of the last few hours were real. Her blue dress, which crinkled in the lukewarm wind, was the only thing which felt real. And him. His glances, his caring, the way he talked to her.

Sansa couldn’t control her feelings anymore. Was he really looking at her that way? She didn't want to be the sweet child anymore, no, she wanted him to see her as woman. Sansa Stark. She wanted to be seen by him, she enjoyed the glances that he was giving her more and more often. A few weeks before, Sansa had come to Kings Landing, full of love for Joffrey, admiring the Queen, so naive and weak. But now she was broken, she didn't want to live by the rules anymore, the rules of this stupid game. Sansa wanted to live.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude to the amazing klug3 for helping me on so many levels by being my beta. :)


	3. Captain Who?

The days were calm and ordered, everybody was minding his own business. The Queen of the Horizon rocked constantly back and forth, again and again. The rhythm made Sansa feel like a newborn in its mother's hands. She slept most of the time, a dreamless sleep. The girl buried her body into soft, nice smelling sheets and hoped that the peace she felt in these moments will stay forever.

After some time she realized that she had to leave the bed and sighed.  She fled from the comfortable warmth and handed herself over to the freezing cold air outside. There she stood, waiting for something to happen. _Or somebody to appear_. Sansa always assumed that the sea is a thrilling place, full of adventures and dangers. The only dangerous thing near this ship was eventually the water, if you couldn't swim.

Everybody was busy all day. They cooked, cleaned, sailed, discussed and insulted each other. Sansa watched them, maybe even wished she could be like them. The men came from different exotic and not-so-exotic places. Two maids had iron coloured hair, it looked like it was made out of split swords, but it fell soft and wavy over their shoulders. Sansa wondered if they were two of Lttlefinger's whores.   
Some of them started conversation, compliments were given and curtsies were swept.  Every time Sansa tried to introduce herself, people started giggling.

"I already know you, Lady Stark," one of the girls with the amazing hair said, and her big blue eyes sparkled. _A_ _ll these people know me, and already knew me before I stepped over the threshold of this ship, and I can’t even remember their names_ _,_ she realized, feeling aggrieved. Not just Varys, the spider, or Lord Baelish, but all these people with their foreign dialects knew her story, too. She herself knew so little, never would know as much about the wine dealers, maids nor over Lord Baelish as they knew about her.

Lord Baelish was absent most of he time, and there was a moment where she thought maybe he was killed and thrown over board. She asked one of the servants were he was, trying not to sound too interested.

“He is probably just busy, M'lady.” the servant sighed. Sansa immediately felt pathetic for asking such things, she knew that he had to mind his own business. Suddenly felt like a clingy child.

 

The next day, a thunderstorm was coming. The blue sky turned black like the clothes of the brothers of the Night’s Watch, and deluge of water rose, trying to devour the ship. The waves' cold hands slapped on the board again and again, scratched with their fingers on the wooden planks. Even the wind showed a particular brutality, and hit with odd powers against the length of the ship, made it shake. The people hid in the belly of the rattling ship. Sansa and some of the winedealersand servants, stayed in a big room full with pillows made of silk and old paintings of dragons, the first people and other creatures from other times, darker times.

Gradually, she started to recognize the names of people down there.There was Quaox Xho with his followers from Braavos. Quaox himself had a dyed-red beard, which framed his face like flames. His clothes were made out of green silk, streaked with gold thread. Though his friends had brightly dyed beards too, nobody looked even nearly as fancy as Quaox did. They had dark skin and brown eyes. Sansa liked the deep, calm voice they always spoke with. _Not like Joffrey's cawing,_ she said to herself. They radiated the same calmness like her father once did. Thinking about her father made Sansa feel the hole inside her stomach again. She was no longer able to recall her father’s at all. It seemed like his death had happened centuries ago, back then, when everything was okay. Sansa sometimes dreamed of waking up. Waking up beneath Lady, feeling her warmth, in her own room in Winterfell. Seeing Ayra, acting like a wilding. She hated having to be with her little sister that times. Now she would kill to see her tousled, sweaty hair and touch her dirty hands.

Among the men from of King’s Landing were a bunch of shady knights. Sir Rolland Castlefell, a chubby man with a bold head was the most annoying and loudest of all the men in the room. Sir Wender Reinhorn and Sir Prat Bloud, two very humble looking man, stayed in the background, while their hairless friend was screaming and making dirty jokes.

Slowly the mood in the room improved. Some men started to sing, while some of the Braavosi opened the first gallons of wine.

_Love on sea, oh oh._

_As stormy as the sea itself, oh oh._

_You can try to paddle and swim, oh oh._

_But you will drown deep in her, oh oh._

 

Though men sang too loud and wrong, and the song didn't rhyme at all, Sansa was relieved that she didn't need to make conversation. The song stopped after three verses, she wasn't sure if the song actually ended or if thee man were just too drunk to sing any longer. Now all the men were shouting and Sansa's eyes captured the two maids with the silver hair sitting on the lap of a laughing Braavosi.

Suddenly she started to panic. “ _I need fresh air”,_ she screamed internally _._ She felt how the ship still rapidly moved, but everything was far better than being mistreated by eyes of the drunken men.

She stepped out on the corridor leaning against the wooden walls, trying to balance her body step by step. Slowly she climbed the narrow stairs, and when she opened the last door that lead directly to the board, harsh wind blew in her face and colored her pale cheeks red.

She balanced on the slippery planks, when an old rough voice behind her murmured: “What are you doing here, milady?“

Sansa flinched. She forgot that a ship couldn't sail itself. When she turned around, a man, who was as rough and old as his voice was, stood in front of her. His face was wrinkled and lined from the many years on the sea and a long, bushy and white beard grew on the wrinkles like weeds.

“I just wanted some fresh air, My Lord.“ Sansa replied. The old man laughed, a heavy raspy laugh.

“I'm the last one you should ever call Lord,” he jerked his eyebrows, “however, you will get a cold out here, milady.”

Sansa looked down on her and her thin dress. _The old captain is right._

“It's really cold, yes. I probably should go to my chamber...” before Sansa could end the conversation, he broke the eye contact, and started to examine the board they were standing on. “What are looking for?“,Sansa inquired. The old man seemed to fight with his emotions, then his face showed a new emotion. Fear _._ Sansa knew fear when she saw it.

“Take care of yourself, Sansa. Listen, I'm begging you. Trust nobody, especially not Petyr Baeleish. He is more dangerous than you could ever imagine,” he whispered.

 _He is mad_ , Sansa thought. _The many years on the sea made his brain all soft and confused._

“I don't thing that Lord Bealish is a danger to any of us. Who are you, anyway?” Sansa demanded, and rubbed her ice cold hands. It was _really_ cold.

“Not important. I'm a friend of the north, you have to…” His words were interrupted by slow, steady steps. They turned around in the same second.

 

 

 


	4. Burning Desires

 

Standing in front of them was Quaox. His red beard, flickering in the rough wind seemed to be alive, and for a second Sansa feared that his face was on fire. Grimly he stared at them, and murmured with his deep voice,

  
“You shouldn't talk to this man, child.” He eyed Sansa, facing her motionless, and it seemed like he doesn't noted the presence of the old, bearded man next to her at all. Sansa felt her blood pumping faster, imagining how red her face must be.  
 _It's not ladylike,_ she told herself, _but bloody hell, why is everybody on this ship acting so terribly strange? This is worse than Kings landing. At least there I knew that I couldn't trust anybody._ She felt rage, balling her hands into fists. The coldness in her body was completely gone.  
“What do you want from me? I come here to get some fresh air, and distance, and you just cant leave me alone.” she cried out, and her voice was shaking. “I don't... I don't even care if everybody on this bloody ship is dangerous, I don't care. Just leave me alone.” Her knuckles emerged white on her fists and her eyes were full of fatigue. The men starred at her, shattered and silent.  
Until Quaox started to laugh. His laugh sounded like two heavy stones colliding with each other, again and again. That made Sansa even angrier than before, but nobody seemed to care.  
“Well, somebody has quite a temper here. I should have known, redhead.” he joked with a massive grin resting in the midst of his beard. When Sansa turned her head to ascertain how the Captain reacted to this crude behavior, she saw that he had vanished.  
“Where is he...” she stumbled shifting her gaze in all possible directions. The old man with the long white beard and the wrinkled face who was standing next to her the second before was gone.  
“But that is completely impossible, there is no other exit than this door here. Is he... Did he, jump overboard? Oh seven gods, somebody has to save him!” Sansa panicked at aimed to shout for help, when Quaox covered her mouth with his scraggly hands.  
   
“Sush, it alright.” he removed his hands from Sansas face and she remained in silence, waiting for explanations.  
“May I introduce myself, milady?” he questioned sarcastic. He bowed and continued:  
“I'm Quaox Matartzy Xho, son of Meweray Xho. Captain of this ship.”  
Sansa immediately felt sick. _The mother may safe me,_ She started to pray soundlessly.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Petyr starred at the dead mahogany walls of his chamber. _Dead_ , he said to himself. It was important. So important. Walls of chambers always had been important. They had eyes, and creatures hidden on the insides, sneaking around behind them. But these walls were dead, and they couldn't hear or see him. At some point he was just like them. Dead. He thought of the many times he tried to feel alive, but he just couldn't. There was only a big rock inside his chest, even if he pretended it is not there. Even Cat, sweet Catelyn, never was able to move that rock. Maybe she lifted it. Maybe he really tried to move it away by himself, but he couldn't. If he could have felt guilt, he perhaps would have felt guilty about betraying her daughter. He really liked Sansa, he didn't know if it was because of her semblance to her mother or her innocence, being the contrary to the whores in his brothels.

  
He thought of the moment in his chambers before Sansa started to weep hysterically. If she hadn’t started to cry at that moment, he would have taken her right on his desk. Hard as a rock, he leaned against her, his cock twitching in the urgent necessity of release. But then she started to cry and bloody hugged him, rubbing his stiff member painfully against her flat stomach, weeping in the back of his neck. _And she didn't even notice, seven hells,_ he railed to himself, stroking his beard with one of his slender hands.

He nearly came against her stomach, silently forming curses with his lips. He had to wait until she left to get release, rubbing his length like a young boy who had never had a woman before. He could have taken her, but he didn't. Petyr wondered why, because he _obviously_ desired the young girl with the auburn hair. Normally he got what he wanted. Or simply took it. That was another resemblance of Sansa to her mother, their elusiveness. Maybe that was the thing making his cock so painfully hard. Just thinking of it let him feel tightness in his crotch. He would have fully grown again, but somebody started rapping on his door with unneeded violence.

Petyr sighed, and looked down his green tunic. _So apparently you have to wait, my friend. Again,_ he murmured internally, hailing the brutal door abuser to step in.

  
It was Quaox, standing in the doorframe with his usual smirk resting on his face.

“Of course, it's you! Who else could beat up doors with such passion? I'm glad it's you, Xho.” Petyr sighed, looking at his old friend. Quaox Xho was the only person he trusted on the entire ship. Maybe that was foolish, but sometimes even the biggest liars had to trust allies, it all was part of the wicked game. He aimed him to lower on the leather chair in front of him.

  
“Petyr, they sent someone. I don't know if it was an assassin or just a spy or whatever, but he nearly got her. The young Stark.” he sputtered after he sat down and his wide grin disappeared. Lord Baelish remained motionless, but on the inside he fasted to boiling: _This stupid, royal whore, we had a plan._

“Is she alright?” he questioned distantly, secretly clawing his finger in his chair.

  
“Well, yes. She had a mental breakdown, but she's not physically hurt. Locked herself in her chamber, refuses to see anybody. I think she as some serious trusting issues now, which is not exactly the best requirement for your plans, my friend. ”

 _As if you would know my plans_ , Petyr laughed internally. He trusted Quaox, but he was no Idiot.

“Thank you,” he murmured, loosening his grip on the chair. He was relieved that the little bird's pretty face wasn't hurt; he liked it as neat and ivory toned as it was.

“I will reward you later. I'm going to go and see her. I could bring her out of her cage once, why not a second time?” he joked, jumping sleekly of his chair, with the elegance of a cat. His friend was wary:

“Against her will?” 

Petyr smiled mischievously. “She will open up for me.”

 

 

 

  
  



	5. Unwanted Powers

 

 When there was a knock at the door, Sansa’s heart stood still for a moment. She hadn’t expected anyone else to visit her, trying to force her to leave her cabin. She had already dismissed four different people, making her wishes explicitly clear, stating that they would leave her alone for a little while. Sansa didn’t plan to leave her save haven within the next few hours, not even for all the Gold in Lennishort.

 It knocked again. Her head ached, making her rub her forehead.

 “Come in.”

 The door swung open, and Lord Baelish stepped in. Sansa wasn’t surprised at all. She expected that he would visit her sooner or later. But at that moment, when he finally was standing in front of her she felt embarrassed, like she betrayed the man who helped her several times, like she was acting like a stubborn child.

 “Sansa,” his voice never sounded so cold before.

 “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

 “What do you mean?” she looked down at her dress fixing the wrinkles on her skirt.

 Petyr closed the door and sat down next to her on the bed. “I mean,” he said, touching the mockingbird pin on his chest, “that you’re acting incredibly mindless. I expected better of you. You’re blaming the wrong people, while being rude to the ones who obviously are trying to help you. That’s not how you play. ”

 “I don’t want to play games anyways.” Sansa regretted her words the second she had spoken them out loud. Hands were dragged around her neck, forcing her to face the Master of Coin’s grey eyes.

 “Oh, you should really think twice about this. You’ve been playing that bloody game since your birth. It’s called life, silly. ” The grip on her neck grew tighter. It got harder and harder to breathe.

 “Stop it.” she demanded and tried to escape his hands, failing even to move an inch.

 “You should start acting like a grown-up, or the game will be over, sooner than you think.” he said, his face and voice remaining emotionless. Sansa could barely breathe anymore, her lungs were craving air. She tried to put all of her strength in pushing the man away, with no success.

 “You’re killing me!” Sansa whimpered, using her last breath. She desperately tried to hold back her tears. “Is that what you were planning from the beginning?” Petyr’s hands flinched back as if he accidently would have touched an hot cooking pot. His eyes looked pitiful, but the rest of his face remained blank. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I suppose I lost control for a second. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 Her fingertips slowly slid across her aching neck, trying to massage the sharp pain away. Sansa’ breath was still loud and heavy, and she had to cough every time she inhaled too quickly.  She stood up from the bed and the world twisted and warped around her. She braced herself against the wall. Sansa turned her back to Littlefinger.

 “What do you want me to do then?” she whispered, balling her free hand, the one that wasn’t supporting her, into a fist.

 “Just stop acting so foolish. Start trusting the right people.” Sansa heard him stand up from her bed. “We’re arriving in Dorne within the next few hours. Make yourself ready.”

 Sansa nodded while she still was gazing at the wall. She opened the mouth, aiming to say something but the words seemed to disappear, to get lost somewhere in her throat. Lord Baelish has already opened the door and has halfway left the room when Sansa found them again.

 “Why am I going there, my lord? I mean, of course I appreciate all of this, but I don’t understand why. What shall I do there? Has this something to do with Joffrey?” Sansa sat down on her bed again, smoothing the wrinkles on her pillow. “I would be more than grateful if you could tell me what is going to happen, Lord Baelish.” Littlefinger turned around on the doorstep and stepped into the room again. He draw closer to Sansa and then knelt to be at eye level with the girl sitting on the bed. He smiled one of his smiles, one of those that don’t seem to reach his eyes.

 “You are going to be Queen, aren’t you? You can’t hide, especially after what happened to you father. You have to win the people’s sympathies,” he raised one corner of his mouth. “And Dorne is a great place to start isn’t it?”

 

Sansa didn’t believe him.

 


	6. The Sun Of Dorne

 

They were sitting on a wide balcony, which shadow saved them from the cruel sun that shined on Dorne’s streets most of the day. Sansa wasn’t by herself. A smirking young man and a girl were sitting next to Sansa on the heavy stone table.

“You’re even more beautiful than they say,” said the boy with the big grin and black curly hair to Sansa. She noticed the angry look the girl next to him gave her. She twisted her black hair with her slender fingers and pressed her lips together. Sansa laughed internally, she noticed that she was just like this girl some time ago. Worrying about love, being jealous. Waiting for her prince to come.

 

Her prince. Joffrey. He came and took all she loved. In old times, Sansa maybe even would have been angry about the fact that the girl’s features were probably more beautiful than hers and her hair looked like black silk. It was a great risk the girl made by looking at her like that; all in all she was still the future queen. Sansa eyed the table in front of her; three seats were still empty. There were extraordinary crafted carafes, filled with all different kinds of juices.  Around every one of them winded a golden snake, looking like it was aiming to drink. She has tried some of the juices, and barley could recognize any of the contents. Sansa would have tried them all, but after she tasted a greenish one, and it was utterly disgusting, the Stark girl decided to touch those carafes never again.

When there was the rattling of swords against body amour, she know that the three empty chairs were soon going to be occupied. The heavy door at the other end of the balcony was abruptly opened and the reason she has travelled to Dorne stood in front of her.  Two of them were standing, one of them was sitting in a chair with rolls. It was Prince Doran.

 

 Petyr told her the most important things, earlier, before they have left the Queen of the horizon. Now he was standing behind Prince Doran, looking with a pleased smile at Sansa. The third man was Oberyn Martell, brother of Prince Doran. Sansa knew that he had big influence and was unpredictable, and she didn’t even had to hear it from Lord Baelish to know that. Even Old Nan had told her and her siblings stories about the Viper. Now, when he was standing in front of her, she couldn’t believe that that was the man out of all the stories. The man who killed dozens of men and women with his poisonous spear. Oberyn, the Oberyn, who has an army out of bastard daughters who all can fight like knights. Oberyn Martell, who hates her husband’s family more than anything else in this word.

 He had something incredibly charming in his appearance. He wasn’t really beautiful, not like Joffrey with his big lips and golden hair. No, he looked quite average, but there still was something noble in his face. His body was quite muscular but still slender. And Sansa believed to see kindness in his face, kindness she never thought he would he would show her, the new member of the Lennister family.

 He was the first one who bowed down before her too. After all what Sansa heard from him, that was a gesture which she even had expected less. She always had the impression that Oberyn Martell was a man who wouldn’t bow for anybody, not even for his gods. Maybe she had been wrong.

 “It’s an honor, Mylady”, he purred as his head lowered for the future queen.

“The honor is on my side, I’ve heard lots of stories about you.” Sansa replied immediately and tried to put her prettiest smile on.  After they sat down at the table, the man in the chair with wheels, who happened to be the Prince of Dorne, raised his voice.

 “Yes, we’re all very honored. I hope you can accept that I despise such formalities. This isn’t Kings Landing, Mylady. We all can speak freely under the roofs of my house, I promise.” His voice was dull and silent, reminding Sansa of Lord Bolton’s ghostlike whispering. Doran’s whole appearance was very ghostlike, his face seemed to be bloodless, in the light of the balcony they were sitting on even shine-through. His black hair let him appear even paler, making him look like one of Sansa’s porcelain dolls, she played with back then when she was a child in Winterfell.

 “Beloved brother, I beg you. There is nothing wrong with introducing yourself. Don’t let us look like wildlings.” His words were soft, but his voice sounded harsh. After those words there was a short, uncomfortable silence. Like so often, Petyr Baelish ended it.

 “Oh, I’m sure Lady Sansa would never think like that.” he smirked, fixed Oberyn with his eyes, not even taking note of Sansa. It seemed like she would have disappeared for him. That made her finger clench tighter around the glass, which was still half full with the disgusting green juice.

 “How would you know?” Oberyn’s words suddenly went as harsh as his voice. His eyes had a dangerous glance. “You know what I hate?”

 That wasn’t a question. Petyr didn’t replied. The entire situation has changed. Sansa saw nervousness, even on Prince Dorans face. However, Oberyn Martell was still smiling like he saw the maid herself.

 “People who speak for people, who can speak for themselves,” his grin grew bigger.

 “And?” Petyr’s voice sounded calm and warm, like Oberyn would have made him a compliment.

 Oberyn pointed on Sansa. For a second Sansa felt like she would start crying. Why would he hate her so suddenly without knowing her? He didn’t seemed to hate her when he stepped in.

 “That bloody juice. You didn’t actually drink it, did you? I’d rather drink piss than that.” He still was pointing at Sansa. At her glass.

All of a sudden he started to laugh, and she was sure that she never heard such a beautiful laugh before. It was warm and honest, and he was laughing with all of his body, whilst looking at Sansa. She smiled, too. And this time she didn’t smiled to look pretty.

That surprised her. Sansa wasn’t able to recall the last time she smiled because she was happy or amused.

 The following two hours they spend talking about things that weren’t important, whilst being kissed by the red afternoon sun. The girl and the boy who sat next to Sansa, turned out to be one of Oberyn’s bastard daughters and Prince Doran’s son.

They talked about Winterfell, Kingslanding, dragons and wine.  When they finished, the warming light was gone and the first stars appeared over the sky of Sunspear.


	7. Meeting The Viper

The plants bathed in the burning sun, absorbed its warmth. The air has reached a temperature where even rocks seemed to start sweating. With every breeze of air, tons of sand were blown from one place to another. Hardly anyone showed on the streets, this kind of weather was even for Sunspear more than unusual. Even the birds stopped to sing, and rested in the shadow of big palm trees.

 Sansa and Oberyn were the only ones who were strolling around in the gardens. The young girl was surprised about the invention she had gotten after they had fished the meal yestereve.

When Oberyn Matell had asked her to meet him tomorrow in the gardens, she couldn’t reject that offer. However, she noticed the steely glance in Petyr’s eyes when she replied with a nod. Since then she feared that she would have made a terrible mistake. 

Oberyn had awaited her up in front of her chambers, wearing thin yellow silk tunica with didn’t fully cover his muscular chest. They had linked arms and Oberyn had pulled her out into the heat of Sunspear.

 “Are you good, Mylady?” he asked, while walking down the small path with was surrounded by orange and lilac flowers, which sweet smell seemed to drug her. Sansa was puzzled why he would ask her this.

“Not much has changed since you asked me yesterday.” the Stark replied, still inhaling the sweet smell.

“Maybe you weren’t able to speak freely. Now you are.” he said. They stepped through a gate out of trees. There were a variety of different trees, all bending forward, forming a dome. In the middle of it was a white fountain, tooled with golden runes. The heat seemed to fade and was replaced by pleasurable coldness.

“This is beautiful.” Sansa whispered, turning her head up and down. She stepped further into the dome, leaving Oberyn’s arm.

“How do you get the trees to grow like that?”

Oberyn smiled: “We have some really good gardeners here in Dorne, they could do absolutely everything concerning trees. Well, my brother pays a fortune for them, so they better do their work probably, eh?”

Sansa wasn’t sure if it was the accent, but she believed every word he spoke. He grabbed her hand when he walked past her, so that she had to make a little turn when she followed him. They walked towards the fountain. They sat down on the edge of it. He didn’t released her hand when they were sitting, which let Sansa feel all tingly. When he looked at his face, she sensed guiltiness in his eyes.

“Look at those trees.” he said, pointing at the trees which the dome consisted of. “They mean to represent the different regions of our world. He pointed at a heart tree. “It means to represent the north. Your house. Your gods.” After he explained the majority of them, he raised his and Sansa’s hand, cupping it fully with both hands.

“We need to unite, Lady Sansa.” he said, his eyes looking sad. “We need to unite the North and Dorne. To get revenge. Revenge for your father. My sister. Your younger brothers.”

Sansa couldn’t believe what he just said.

“My brothers?” she asked, her voice shaking. She freed her hand from Oberyn’s. He didn’t answer, he just sat there and studied her face.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sansa exactly knew what it was supposed to mean. She jumped on her feet.

“Excuse me,” she murmured as she ran out of the dome. Before she even could leave it, her cheeks were already wet of tears.

 ---

 

She thought she was going to lock herself in her chambers. Again. Instead she run to Lord Baelish’s rooms. She didn’t knock.

He was reading some papers, when she rushed in. Petyr Baelish gave her a surprised look.

“Sansa-,” he said, but this time she didn’t let him finish.

“You didn’t tell me. Nobody told me.” Her voice was still shaking, and her stomach had problems with keeping her breakfast.

Petyr stood up and walked towards her.

“What did he told you?” he asked, stepping through the bright room. Sansa knew that she had to be careful. She didn’t know on which side Littlefinger actually stood.

“Enough.” she nearly screamed.

“You can trust me, Sansa.” the way he spoke made her believe his words.

“He wants an alliance. And he told me…about Rickon and Bran.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Littlefinger lied with a rough voice. He stood only two steps away from the Stark girl.

“And what about the alliance?” he asked, laying one of his hands on her cheek.

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.

“Do you want him?” he replied. Sansa thought of Oberyn’s muscular chest, his kind eyes and his accent. The tingling she felt when he took her hand. Maybe she wanted him.

She didn’t replied.

 


	8. Wounded Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ SMUT WARNING: This chapter contains P18 smut. I'm in love with this chapter and really tried my best, but since it hasn't been beta-ed yet (I couldn't wait to share it with you), It could contain some spelling/grammar errors. However, enjoy my incredibly awkward smut.]

 

“He can’t have you, Sansa.” Petyr purred. Sansa noticed the angry glare in his eyes again. She thought that it would be over now. That Oberyn would be executed as traitor and that she would be sent to Kingslanding again immediately.

 

But then he pushed her against the wall, pressing the warmth of his body against hers, their lips nearly colliding. Sharing their breath.

“He won’t get you, sweetling. I won’t let him do that” he murmured. Their lips meet, wet and hot, to a hungry kiss. When they split again, his lips wandered down her neck, leaving a trail of red marks. Somehow he seemed to know where to suck to let her mouth escape moans. Sansa didn’t tried to escape his hands anymore, she just concentrated on the pleasurable pain which was running through her body.

When their heated lips finally met again, he grabbed her wrists and dragged her across the room to the huge balcony bed. He pinned her down at her wrists into the white sheets. For a second, his face looked like he would have decided to leave Sansa.

“Don’t stop.” Sansa said breathlessly, with blushed cheeks. “Please.”

This words seemed to amuse him. However, he didn’t smile. It were his eyes which revealed his true emotion, Sansa had discovered that a while ago. He started unlacing her dress, his fingers working fast and skilled.

“You need to stop wearing hard-removable dresses like this, love.” he said emotionless. Sansa tried not to think about all the other women he already had. Suddenly she felt incredibly jealous, but that didn’t last long.

Littlefinger had finally unlaced her dress, removing all the silk from her body, tearing it down her slender body like it would be poisonous. Sansa blushed when she noticed that she was naked. She tried to cover her breasts with her hands, but Petyr instantly pinned her wrists down again.

“You’re breathtaking, don’t ever try to cover you again when you’re with me.” he whispered, his voice soft as the kisses that followed. Slowly, his lips wandered down her neck. That time, he didn’t stopped there. When his mouth has reached her chest, he carefully kissed her nipples, making them hard instantly. Sansa gasped for air. When he saw that reaction, he took one of them in his mouth. First he sucked lightly, but soon he started to carefully bite it. At this point Sansa screamed out her moans, her hips buckling wildly.

“Oh seven gods!” she whimpered. Petyr reacted with removing his hands from her wrists, he knew that she would leave them where he wants her to. One of his hands wandered down her stomach, sliding between her legs. When he started drawing circles with her clit, the new sensation made Sansa’s fingers claw into the sheets.

“You like that, huh?” Petyr smiled hungrily. “You’re all wet. What a naughty girl.” Sansa’s hips arched  when he inserted two fingers into her. For some moments his fingers slide in and out, making Sansa cry out curses, but then he stopped. Sansa immediately missed the touch down there, and groaned silently. When Petyr rolled over on his back, she suddenly was afraid. Sansa had fantasies about it since she had stepped on the ship. She didn’t want to mess things up somehow.

Sansa crawled on him, starting to unlace his pants. She was sitting on his legs with spread legs, rubbing herself against his trousers, what let her breath hitch.

Her hands weren’t as calm as his; they were shaking and had problems with untying the laces. Petyr was hard like a rock, and Sansa noticed the dangerous glare in his face again. She didn’t know what she had done wrong.

His erection sprung free, Sansa’s eyes went bigger. She wanted to stop the aching between her legs so bed, but was afraid of his length. Just two of his fingers could make her scream, what would do his cock to her?

“I ruined your pants,” she gasped seriously worried, with innocent big eyes, when she looked down on the wet spot, which her humping has caused.

That seemed to let Petyr’s last restraint vanish. He rolled around, turning Sansa on her back faster than she could notice. They kissed passionately, their tongues danced. Petyr bit her under lip, nibbling on it softly.

Sansa gasped when she felt the tip of his manhood rubbing against her soaking entrance.

“You really do want Oberyn Martell, Sansa?” he groaned, in a husky voice. His grey eyes seemed to turn darker. “Maybe he should finish you off. I could sent you to him. “

He smiled sadistically. Feeling his cock being so close, rubbing against her, was like torture to Sansa.

“Please.” she whispered, while she spread her legs wider. Her entire body was flushed and covered in sweat, waiting for release.

“You sure that you want that alliance?” he asked sarcastically, now rubbing the entire length of his shaft against her, making her hips buckle up. Her eyes were tightly closed.

“I need you. Please,” she sputtered, grabbing his soft woolen tunic. “Fuck me, please. Petyr.”

 

When he slowly slid inside her, Sansa thought she would explode. The new sensation of fullness made her scream, half out of pain and half because of the pleasure she felt. Apparently she wasn’t alone with her feelings. Petyr’s mouth escaped a deep groan.

“By the gods, you’re so tight.” he gasped weakly, slowly moving in her. Sansa digged her nails harder into Petyr’s clothes. “You alright?”

“It’s just…” Sansa’s words were interrupted by her own shaking moan, when Littlefinger’s hand started to draw hard circles on her clit. The pain vanished more and more and Petyr started to increase the speed of his thrusts, hitting her sweet spot. He pounded into her, setting a rhythm which made her eyes roll back, while she screamed out curses.

Not much later she was whimpering his name, with every deep thrust he made.

 

“Oh Petyr…by the seven…” she muttered. Her climax hit her unexpected like a lightning, making her cry out his name, so loud that she feared everyone in Sunspear would have heard it. Her entire body was flooded by a wave of pleasure, making her body weak and shivering, while he still pounded hard and deep into her a few times. Feeling her muscles clench around his cock pushed Petyr over the edge, too, thrusting one more time deep into the young copper-haired girl, spilling his hot seems into her stomach. They kissed, lips only brushing lightly, before he rolled over on his back again.

 Sansa felt too weak to move, her entire body was still shaking from the orgasm she just had. With a weak smile she turned to Petyr, wanted to lay her arms around him, undress him and feel his warm body press against hers. He was already finished with chording the laces of his pants again, sitting up in the bed.

When he noticed the disappointed look on her face, he dragged the naked girl on his lap, and kissed her heavily, massaging her tongue with his. His hands laid around her, sliding down her back and caressed her ass.

“Sweetling,” he murmured looking at Sansa hungrily “I have to work, but I want you to stay. Nothing could make this room more beautiful, than you laying naked in it. I suppose you have problems with walking right now anyway.”

He put her down again, heading to the table he was sitting before. The light got duller, and the first nightingales started to sing their sweet song. Petyr lightened a candle.

However there was enough light for Sansa to see the dark spot next to her, when she turned her head.

“You took it.” she whispered softly. Petyr looked at her surprised.

“What do you mean, Mylady?” he raised his eyebrows.

“My innocence.”

Petyr smiled, shadows dancing all over his face.

“I think you lost you lost it a long time ago in Kingslanding, sweetheart.”

 

Later she thought about Bran und Rickon. She cried silent tears, until everything went black and she fell asleep.

 

 

 

 


	9. Dark Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. It's only the first part of the actual chapter, but I haven't updated this story for quite a while now and feel guilty about it. Anyways, enjoy!

The hot air surrounded her body, like it was a thick, heavy coat. The sweet smell of oranges filed the room. When her eyes opened for the first time that day, she was dazzled by the sun. Sansa blinked a few times, until she realized two things. The first one was that she slept until midday. The other that she wasn’t laying in her own room.  
Shocked, she immediately jumped up and searched for her clothes. She could shadowy remember what happened last night. That was the reason why she had to leave so urgently.  
Her eyes wandered around, and looked for the dress, which should have layed somewhere on the floor next to the bed. But the floor was empty. Her clothes have vanished. Or somebody took them.  
Sannsa let out a sigh. Of course, she couldn’t run around naked, or covered in a bed sheet. Not when there was a possibility of being seen like that.  
“Bastard,” Sansa whispered angrily to herself. She couldn’t believe that Petyr, the man who seemed to want her so badly, would did something like that to her. That was one thing she would have expected of Joffrey to do. But not Lord Baelish.  
Sansa rubbed the last sleep out of her eyes, before she sat back into bed again. Looking at the room, she got an idea.  
She sat up again and tiptoed with her naked feet on the surprisingly cold stone floor, heading to the big wooden trunk on the other side of the room.  
Sansa slowly lift up the heavy lid. There were a lot of letters and on many of them, the seal was already broken. Sansa carefully stared to lay them on the floor next to her. She noticed that nearly every third letter had the royal seal on it.

She took one letter into her hands, and slowly run the heavy paper through her fingers, caressing the seal with her thumb.  
Then she decided to put it away. She couldn’t read it. Not in that moment, when so much had happed. Too much.  
She took out the last letter out of the trunk and finally reached the pile of clothes. Sansa pulled a lilac tunic out, and slid it over her sweaty body. The silk was cool and soft on her skin.  
Sansa stepped to the mirror and looked at her reflection. It was deeper plunging and more revealing then anything she would ever have worn under normal circumstances and the sleeves were too long, but she liked how the color flattered the red in her hair.  
After that she kneeled next to the trunk, and laid the letters on the clothes again carefully. Then, for the first time that day Sansa realized, that her little brothers were dead. She wasn’t sure if it was true. Sansa believed, just for a second, that it was just a bad dream. Silly dreams. She looked down on herself, and noticed the bruises on her key bones, which hurt really badly when she tapped it with one finger. The night was real. She was praying for that she was still dreaming.  
If not, Petyr would be a liar. Her brothers aren’t dead. They’re so young and haven’t even made enemies yet. They even can’t swing a sword properly. She remembered the one time when Rickon tried to fight with a tiny wooden sword, and how ridiculous that looked. Sansa giggled.

When she silently slid through the wooden door, she prayed that she wouldn’t be seen. She didn’t want to imagine what consequences it would draw with, when somebody would see her leaving Petyr’s room, not wearing her own clothes. Sansa stepped on the hot sand colored stone, which left a sharp pain on her toes. The corridor in was on one side open, so that the sun could shine through the pillars, which supported the heavy walls upon them. The smell of oranges was even stronger now, which made Sansa crinkle her nose. .

Suddendly, the noise of steps came closer. And closer. The Stark girl tried to open the door, but it wouldn't move. Sansa held her breath.


End file.
